


yuri hates canadians and their weird ice stick sport

by spellingmynamewrong



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Gen, those scott moir memes gave me life, yuri is too edgy for this world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellingmynamewrong/pseuds/spellingmynamewrong
Summary: alternatively, that time when yuri was dragged to a hockey game at the olympics and then forced to comfort a ridiculously drunk jj leroy- - -Yuri knows more than a handful of hockey players—mostly through Mila—and they’ve all ended up being assholes. The skating of hockey players is akin to the dancing of someone who took one ballet class when they were six and now think they’re the reincarnated Anna Pavlova. He’s watched hockey players strut around an ice rink like they own the place when their technique is utter shit and they can’t even spin around twice without clutching onto the sides of the rink.Hockey players are cockroaches who think they’re gods and nobody bothers to correct them because they tower over everyone and seem to find pleasure in terrifying people. Hockey players think they deserve to be bowed down to daily because they have enough coordination to direct a piece of plastic into a net. Hockey players are the human equivalent of that steaming piece of crap a horse left on the side of the road.If JJ Leroy played hockey, Yuri wouldn’t be surprised.





	yuri hates canadians and their weird ice stick sport

**Author's Note:**

> (are the scott moir memes dead yet because i don’t want them to be)

Yuri’s fine with his silver medal. He’s fine. It’s solid, sturdy, shiny, and definitely a medal, which is more than he can say for that crappy “you tried your best, Yura” he got from Yakov after that horrific sixth-place finish at Worlds. He can be proud of it; he’ll put it in that trophy case his grandfather commissioned a year ago. He just won’t put it front and center with his gold medals.

At least it was Katsudon who got the gold. He’d cried—no, wept—when it was hung around his neck and bowed copiously afterward, his eyes shining the whole time. If it had been Yuri, he would have tried furiously to wipe away the tears as discreetly as possible, but Katsudon always feels too much.

Anyway. He knows he should be ecstatic; he’s seventeen and already an Olympic silver medalist, which is a lot more than most seventeen-year-olds have to show for themselves. And he’s certainly happy for Otabek and his bronze. He just wishes that he could have been a bit better, even if he knows that even a bit better wouldn’t have been enough, not when Katsudon had a seven-point lead coming into the free skate because Yuri had fallen on his quad loop and been completely out of it for the rest of his short program, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t make some idiotic mistake like pop his triple salchow or something.

Apparently, he looks depressed enough during the post-medal ceremony press conference for Otabek to nudge him kindly when Katsudon is asked, yet another time, how he feels, like he hasn’t already given twenty-nine variations of “fantastic but stunned”. Yuri’s gotten approximately three questions this entire press conference, which he would complain about if he didn’t detest press conferences.

He does feel bad for Katsudon, though. With every question about how he managed to “recover” after a “career of failures”, Katsudon looks increasingly pained. He knows that the media loves Katsudon’s “underdog” narrative. Commentators love bringing up how Katsudon managed to “claw his way back up to the top” after that sixth place finish at that one Grand Prix Final and his subsequent failure at Japanese nationals. They never remember that a) Katsudon had made it to the GPF on his own merits, one of sixth men’s singles skaters in the world, b) Katsudon had probably spent the next few weeks after that suffering acutely from imposter syndrome, c) Katsudon had been the Junior World Champion like, five million times in a row, and d) Katsudon finished second and then first at the two Grand Prix Finals after that, is currently a two-time consecutive World Champion, and is now an Olympic gold medalist.

If Yakov wasn’t glaring daggers at Yuri from across the room, looking as though he’ll disembowel Yuri if he makes one non-preapproved move—even though he’s only ever thrown a bottle of water at a particularly moronic reporter once—he would say something cutting about if the media plans to ever recover from its perpetual decline. Otabek looks tenser with every question too, and Yuri empathizes with him. He knows how much Otabek cares about improving Kazakhstan’s position in the world of figure skating, and he’s obviously not going to have the opportunity to do that if he never gets asked a question.

Finally, the attention turns away from Katsudon and towards the medalists as a whole.

“We’ve all seen those adorable videos of Yuuri and Victor hugging after his free skate, as well as the pictures of you three hugging on the podium,” one particularly chipper reporter starts. “So my question is this: how do you guys view each other when you’re not competing? Would you consider yourselves good friends?”

Internally, Yuri groans. The only thing he hates more than pointed rhetorical questions are fluffy ones asked only for the enjoyment of teenage girls on Tumblr.

“Well, I certainly view Otabek as not only a worthy competitor but also a friend,” Katsudon replies, leaning into the microphone. “I find his efforts to increase awareness of figure skating in Kazakhstan phenomenal, honestly. And well, Yuri.”

Katsudon chuckles, and Yuri braces himself for something ridiculously sappy like “I view Yuri as my own son”, which Victor seems to love telling everyone who he comes across.

“Yuri is everything I wanted to be at seventeen,” Katsudon says, and Yuri feels like an arrow has been shot through his chest, rendering him incapable of moving even a finger. “He’s amazing, really. He’s one of the strongest figure skaters—and people—I know, and watching his improvement these past few years has been nothing less than breathtaking. But if I had to say—hmm, I think I see him as a little brother. You know, someone I can guide through life and give advice to occasionally. And, well, like any good older brother, I want to see him become better than me.”

“Otabek is my best friend,” Yuri starts quickly because God damn it, he is not going to cry now. “I love competing with him and just, like, hanging out together. And, um, yeah. That’s it.”

Otabek seems to catch the cue. “I aim to emulate Yuuri’s step sequences constantly, and Yuri is certainly my greatest role model. I could not ask to be on this podium with two better skaters.”

“Well, those are certainly strong relationships,” the reporter laughs. “It’s good to see such camaraderie amongst athletes.”

Being an American reporter, she proceeds to drone on for three more minutes about how important sportsmanship is, but not before engaging in what Yuri can only assume is banter with an obnoxiously enthusiastic blond man.

Thankfully, the press conference ends soon afterward, Victor rushing to Katsudon’s side immediately like it’s November of 1989 and Victor was trapped in East Berlin for twenty-five years.

“Yuuri, look who I met!” Victor crows, pushing a short Asian teenage girl in front of them. Her Team Canada jacket is bedazzled with red rhinestones and she looks like she dies a little bit more every second that Victor’s touch lingers on her.

“Oh my God, it’s Yuuri Katsuki and Yuri Plisetsky,” she breathes. Yuri really hopes she isn’t another Yuri’s Angel who somehow snuck their way into the Olympics. “I’m Julia Chen. I just want to say that, um, I admire you so much. And, um, please come to the women’s singles skating! Okaythanksbye!”

She says—no, screams—three sentences in one breath and then runs—practically twirls—out of the room, leaving as quickly as she appeared.

“Who was that?” Katsudon asks, bemused. “Victor, you know how Yura gets uncomfortable around fans that are, er, intense.”

“No, no!” Victor beams. “Julia’s representing Canada in women’s singles figure skating. She didn’t show up on my radar much before, but she actually placed fifth this year at Worlds. She’s only sixteen—I think this is her second year in Seniors? And she has a clean triple axel, Yura, isn’t that amazing? It’s almost as good as my Yuuri’s!”

“You happened to sit next to her during the press conference and just started talking to her when you got bored, didn’t you?”

“Well, maybe,” Victor concedes. “Anyway, Thursday night’s the finals in women’s hockey—Canada against America—and Julia invited us to come watch with Team Canada!”

Katsudon blinks. “Victor, you hate hockey. And there’s gala practice then.”

“But Yuuri, you need a break,” Victor wheedles. “We can start practicing for Worlds next week.”

“Gala practice,” Katsudon sighs, but it’s clear that he’s been won over.

“I think it would be a good idea,” Otabek chimes in. “The Olympics are about unity. And hockey’s not too bad, Yura. You would like it.”

If it were anyone else telling Yuri what he’ll think about something, this is when Yuri would take off his shoe and throw it at that person’s face. Otabek, however, knows Yuri better than anyone besides his grandfather and Yakov, and most times he’s right about what Yuri will like and what he won’t.

The thing is, Yuri is sure that this is one of the times where Otabek’s wrong. Yuri knows more than a handful of hockey players—mostly through Mila—and they’ve all ended up being assholes. The skating of hockey players is akin to the dancing of someone who took one ballet class when they were six and now think they’re the reincarnated Anna Pavlova. He’s watched hockey players strut around an ice rink like they own the place when their technique is utter shit and they can’t even spin around twice without clutching onto the sides of the rink.

Hockey players are cockroaches who think they’re gods and nobody bothers to correct them because they tower over everyone and seem to find pleasure in terrifying people. Hockey players think they deserve to be bowed down to daily because they have enough coordination to direct a piece of plastic into a net. Hockey players are the human equivalent of that steaming piece of crap a horse left on the side of the road that no one’s bothered to clean up yet.

If JJ Leroy played hockey, Yuri wouldn’t be surprised.

When Thursday rolls around, though, Yuri finds himself walking into an Olympic ice rink to watch a fucking hockey game.

Victor had spent the entire day trying to convince him by telling him that he would “be missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime”—which he wouldn’t be, since Yuri fully intends to be in Beijing in 2022—and that “Julia invited us, and we should go to congratulate her on her bronze medal!”—and yeah, Yuri supposes that they should, except he could congratulate her some other time since they currently live within a five-mile radius of each other.

He’d set his mind on not going when Otabek had shown up outside his room, decked out in pro-Canada gear and looking far too exuberant for someone who was planning on watching literal adults pummel each other for three hours in the name of sport.

(Yuri knows that he’s got a bit of a violent streak, but really, most of the violence in hockey just seems unwarranted. He prefers planned, directed violence over randomized violence—while randomized violence gets old quickly, directed violence is always purposeful and always hits his designated victim where it hurts. He’s pretty sure that hockey player who’s gotten into three fights in twenty-five minutes can’t even feel his neck anymore, let alone recall the visage of his attacker.)

And how had Yuri forgotten that Otabek had trained in Canada for three—four?—years, alongside Jean-Jackass Leroy, no less? And how had he forgotten that Otabek and JJ were friends? And how had he forgotten about Otabek’s intense loyalty to his friends, no matter how terrible they were?

So Yuri immediately feels obligated to go, if only because he doesn’t want to see Otabek’s face fall when Yuri breaks the news that he’ll be playing CS:GO in his room alone instead of going to the women’s hockey finals. (Obviously, he’s not going to gala practice. Gala practice is for losers.)

For some reason, Victor is also wearing a gratuitous amount of pro-Canada apparel, complete with little Canadian flags sticking out of a red plastic headband perched awkwardly on top of his head. Katsudon, on the other hand, has an American flag draped over him.

“But Yuuri, we’re watching the game with the Canadians,” Victor says, cocking his head. “I’m not sure they’ll be too happy with, er—”

“I have a friend on the American hockey team,” Yuuri replies, smiling. “She always supported me, so I think it’s only fair that I support her too.”

Yuri can pinpoint the moment when Victor’s eyes fill with hearts. Yuri’s fairly sure that Katsudon could, at this point, ask Victor to run naked through the Olympic village and Victor would say yes immediately. Yuri thanks God every day that Katsudon isn’t aware of his power to subtly manipulate others.

The hockey stadium is ridiculously crowded, and it seems like at least eighty-five percent of the crowd is completely wasted. When they reach Team Canada, that eighty-five percent shoots up to a solid ninety-eight percent. In fact, the only person whose sobriety Yuri is completely sure of is Julia, who beams widely when she sees them.

“I’m so happy you came! I was wondering if, you know, I overstepped my boundaries the other day and all, since I didn’t really know you guys that well, but I’m really glad I took that risk,” she chatters. And chatters. And chatters.

Yuri’s eyes start glazing over in the first minute of her rapid dialogue, and he almost falls over when Otabek gently shoves him into his seat. Which, obviously, is next to an obnoxiously drunk JJ Leroy.

Yuri is intimately familiar with drunk people. Yakov is a sad drunk, Victor is alternatively a sad and enthusiastic drunk, and Katsudon is an extremely enthusiastic drunk. JJ, though. JJ, Yuri grows to realize, is an extremely zealous, extremely angry drunk.

When the game begins, JJ starts screaming and gesticulating almost immediately. Apparently, every call is a bad one, except if it favors Canada. Then, of course, the call is completely correct, and the American fans are idiots for thinking that it’s wrong.

Halfway into the first quarter, Yuri watches as Katsudon whispers something into Victor’s ear and Victor proceeds to turn an unnatural shade of red. Yuri isn’t even surprised when the two awkwardly get up to leave a minute later, Victor still blushing profusely.

Even though Yuri’s not surprised, though, he’s still more than a little pissed off. Victor, after all, had spent the majority of the past week attempting to convince Yuri to come watch a goddamned hockey game, and now he and Katsudon are leaving to make out in their hotel room. Sometimes, Yuri wonders how he manages to be so reasonable in the face of such betrayal.

Grudgingly, though, Yuri starts actually watching the game. He’s still fairly sure that hockey is a completely useless sport that only has violence because nobody would even bother to watch it otherwise, but whatever. It isn’t like he can play any games on his phone, since JJ’s flailing arms would probably just knock it out of Yuri’s hands and into the rink.

Then, of course, Otabek has to leave. Apparently, a weird press function thing popped up, which means that Yuri is left with an empty seat on his left and a screaming JJ on his right.

“I’ll be back soon, Yura,” Otabek promises, which isn’t enough, because in “soon” JJ will have gotten exponentially drunker and exponentially more obnoxious.

The only benefit of this is that Yuri gets to scoot over one seat away from JJ, who seems to have downed three beers in five minutes. Honestly, he’s kind of impressed.

Seconds later, Yuri is unbelievably grateful for Otabek’s absence. Apparently, the call is so offensively wrong that JJ begins shouting and waving his arms so wildly that Yuri would have been knocked off his seat if he hadn’t moved.

“You idiot, get the fuck down,” Yuri hisses, grabbing onto the back of JJ’s jacket. Even if Yuri detests JJ, he doesn’t exactly wish for the moron’s face to end up on the front of a tabloid with “CANADA’S NATIONAL HERO A RAGING LUNATIC???” as the headline. “There’s press here, you know.”

Obviously, JJ doesn’t sit down calmly. Instead, Yuri has to awkwardly wrestle JJ back into his seat. Next to going through puberty and realizing he had to revise his jumping technique and that dance-off with Katsudon that Yuri’s still trying to forget, it’s the most traumatic experience of his life.

 _beka get back here jackass has gone insane_ , Yuri texts rapidly.

 _Press conference is almost over. Ten minutes_ , Otabek replies, and Yuri wants to bang his head against the railing in front of him until he passes out. In ten minutes, it’s probable that JJ will have cleared the railing and be on the ice, screaming at the American women’s hockey team.

The ten minutes are excruciating. Yuri forcibly restrains JJ every time it seems like he’s going to jump up and start shouting again. He also takes away JJ’s beers, which seem to just appear out of thin air the second Yuri looks away. The rest of Team Canada is also extremely unhelpful; Julia is apparently a hardcore hockey fan and is screaming louder than JJ, and the other twenty or so members are even drunker than before.

When Otabek finally appears, Yuri almost collapses out of relief.

“Beka, I don’t care how great this game is,” Yuri says desperately. “We need to leave before this idiot manages to kill either himself or all of us.”

Surprisingly, Otabek nods. “It does seem like he’s a bit far gone.”

Carrying JJ out of the stadium is somehow even worse than having to restrain him. They have to muffle JJ’s painfully loud protests with a random glove Yuri found on the floor while taking care that no one sees them and assumes Canada’s hero is being kidnapped by random teenage hooligans. Yuri prays that the press is too busy reporting on the fight between seven hockey player’s that’s just broken out to care about three men who look suspiciously similar to world-renowned figure skaters trying to sneak out of the rink.

Thankfully, JJ’s room is close enough that they manage to get there with minimal sightings by fans. Of course, when they get there, Otabek decides that they need to stay with JJ to make sure he doesn’t choke to death on his own vomit.

“He’ll be fine,” Yuri says dismissively. “He’s what, twenty-two? And he has a roommate, right? Why can’t we just call that guy?”

“His roommate is still at the game, and I doubt he’ll be back before two in the morning,” Otabek replies, sighing. “We need to make sure he’s okay before he can leave.”

Yuri flops down onto one of the twin beds dramatically before realizing that the lumpy thing he thought was a pillow is, in fact, the arm of JJ. JJ, for whatever reason, has decided to shroud himself in blankets, giving him a remarkable resemblance to a pile of lumpy snow.

“Get up, you idiot,” Yuri snaps. “You’re going to suffocate if you keep doing that, and then Beka and I will be arrested for murder and you’ll be known as the moron who died in a pile of regurgitated alcohol.”

“Want to,” a voice that sounds suspiciously like JJ’s mumbles.

“What, you want to drown in shitty beer?”

“Not like I can be more of a failure,” the voice wails.

Sometimes, Yuri thinks he and Otabek are the only consistently calm, fully sane figure skaters.

“How the hell are you a failure?” Yuri demands. “Your country loves you, for whatever godforsaken reason, and I’m willing to bet you have an entire apartment dedicated to trophies and medals.”

“Fourth place. Fourth place at my last Olympics, and everyone says I was great, but I was so, so close, and then I let everyone down, and I’m just—” the voice breaks down into muffled sobs, and Yuri looks pleadingly at Otabek.

“JJ, nobody thinks you’re a failure,” Otabek says quietly, plopping down next to Yuri. “Like Yura said, Canada is proud of you, and there’s no reason to believe this is your last Olympics.”

“I’m twenty-two. Of course this is my last Olympics.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Yuri snaps, rolling his eyes when Otabek gives a warning look. “Okay, sorry. Seriously, though. Katsuki’s twenty-five and he just won a gold medal. You’ll be what, twenty-six in Beijing? And you have more quads than he did when he was twenty-two.”

“There will be other seasons, JJ. And you’ll keep improving. I’ve seen you do it.”

JJ sniffles quietly, and Yuri readies himself for another round of tears. Instead, though, JJ reaches out to Otabek and Yuri and pulls them into what Yuri assumes is a hug, but feels more like an awkward attempt at choking him. In any case, Yuri tries to squirm out of it immediately.

“I’m going to beat you in Beijing, though,” Yuri declares. “You’ll choke on your tears as you watch them hang a gold medal around my neck.”

**Author's Note:**

> have i adequately captured yuri’s edgy soul


End file.
